


End It On This

by beastlybolt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bruises, Canon Universe, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Light Smut, Mentions of Pregnancy, Protective Dean, Showering Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 09:35:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11575362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beastlybolt/pseuds/beastlybolt
Summary: "What the hell happened to you? And why do you look like Muhammad Ali's punching bag?"





	End It On This

**Author's Note:**

> Short two-ish part thing that I thought I ought to post since it actually wasn't too bad, knowing my writing from two or so years ago. Tune in for a cute hunting couple.

You sighed contently when you felt the hot water spray out and down your back, the kinks in your shoulders uncoiling and calming down in bits from the heavenly heat of the water. Your hair was wet and sticking to your back few seconds after, and you closed your eyes, beginning to relax. The hunt you had just returned from was brutal; cuts and bruises lay on your sides and a slight red mark just underneith your left eye that Dean would cringe at if he sees it. _If._

That's the beauty of makeup, you think. 

Sam had offered to take care of you in bandaids and hydrogen peroxide, but you declined and told him a shower would do just as much. With a small nod, his gaze to the ground, looking guilty as ever for prime reason your body was cut up a bit, he said okay and he'll be here 'til and after his brother gets back.

Dean was going in to town for your weekly shopping while Sam offered you a hunt. With a list of everything you needed in his hands, and a kiss on your cheek, he said goodbye. Of course, it had taken him hours upon hours just to get your products; shampoo, conditioner, shaving cream, tampons, another hair brush (he complained at that one, asking why you'd need another hair brush when you already have one in the drawer. _Because I'm a woman, Dean, and I have about a foot of hair and it gets hard to take care of and you ASKED for a list, I'm giving you one._ ) And after finally getting all your favourite snacks and easy microwave meals, he set off back to the bunker in an Impala full of groceries, trunk to front. 

When Dean returned to the bunker with a loud 'I'm home!' earning no response, he squints his eyes in confusion. Because when is the bunker ever quiet with Sam and you around? He sets the six bags that were crumpled up in his arms down on the counter and throws the keys on the couch, he bumps into Sam on the way.  
"Woah, easy, tiger. Wouldn't wanna start a fist fight." Dean grins while patting his younger sibling on the shoulder. 

Sam rolls his eyes. "Oh, hey, you're back. Good. You get Y/N her stuff?" 

"Yeah. Where's that crazy chick at? I need to ask her something." 

"Showering. She's been for half an hour now, I think she's just enjoying the quiet. You know. 'Cause you're not around." 

Dean snaps his fingers. "Hey. Keep sayin' shit like that, you're gonna get yourself punched." He chuckles lightly, pointing at Sam, who oddly is taller than him by a solid three inches now. _Little brother my ass._ Sam keeps his gaze to the clock as he laughs a little, and ends their conversation with a quick 'I'll be back, taking your car' leaving Dean in the hall.

You don't hear any of the voices of the two men who made your life a lot more.... easy, as the way you'd put it. Like life was no longer something to endure, but to live. All the depression, all the constant empty stomachs and frowned faces, you've finally met the boy, the most beautiful, dorky green eyed boy, who changed everything in weeks. After a few dates, a bruised, beaten up Dean Winchester showed up at your door spilling everything. His way of life, his job, the way he thought you two would just be having fun before he left town like he does. But you were different for him. You made him _believe_ and dream of a future with a woman. A happily ever after. You just couldn't deny him anything, this whimpering man you'd barely known longer than a few weeks through the dates he'd taken you on. You went with him. Moved in, learned everything they knew. Made you feel like you really belonged.

You lost track of time, could've been in the shower for hours for all you cared, you just couldn't stop feeling the hot sprinkles of wetness and steam float around and on your body. You need this, you needed this. Body already washed, legs already shaven, and hair already taken care of, you daydreamed of the future you wouldn't get to have with the love of your life. Kids. Picket fence. Apple fucking pie. If only. It had always been a dream that was far out; your first issue was not being okay enough to find your "significant other" or having one and them not wanting the same. _It doesn't matter,_ you scold yourself. _Dean can't find out about any of it. So lock it up._

Dean made his way to your shared room, hearing the beat of the water in the bathroom connected to it and curved his lips up in a smile. He can't wait to see you.  
Clothes shed onto the floor, because it's HIS room and Sam can't bitch him out for being messy if it's just a shirt, pants, under garmets, and socks. No. Anyway, his hand finds the cracked door and pushes it open further without a creek. The outline of your naked-self is exposed through the glass of the shower, and he swears he'll never get tired of seeing it.  
Giddy, he slides the glass to the right and steps in with you, your back to him and your hands on your face. 

"Baby I'm home," he slightly whispers, and hears your little gasp as you turn to him. His hands make their way to your sides, going in for a kiss, til he opens his eyes and notices the red slashes and purple bruises, not to mention the scratch shaped like a lightning bolt running down your face. 

Pause.

"What the hell happened to you?" 

"I - It's - just kiss me," you order, not giving him time to speak and gently kissing his agape mouth, wanting nothing more than for him to not worry about you, that you're fine, he's fine, that you're both alive. He responds immediately, cupping your cheek and your hair with his other hand, expertly running his tongue along your bottom lip, expertly making you feel good about yourself like he always does. 

Not long after, he pulls away with a small smacking sound of both your lips despite the running water on both your bodies, and looks at you with concern, worry. 

"Can you please tell me why you look like Muhammad Ali's punching bag?" 

"I went on a hunt, big fucking deal, Dean. You took forever, wanna explain that?" You sigh, parting your hair and stepping out of the shower. All to be stopped by his arm. 

"Well, why don't you ask the damn lady at the supermarket. Taking forever just to find the cereal aisle! It took me five minutes just to get her attention, considering that she looked like a normal fucking person and not an employee!" He argues, making you giggle for a second and run your hand through his hair, playing with the porcupine strands. "And why the hell would you go without me? Did you even take the knife I gave you -"

"Yes, Dean. I did, now will you quit worrying on please? For me?" You quietly implore as you run your fingers through his hair once more. He sighs and presses further into your hand, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around your hips. You take the moment to press the temperature knob, stopping the water while all of it drains into the sink, swirling around both your and Dean's toes. Both of you lay there for not longer than two minutes, til you pull away to wrap a towel around Dean first and then your body. With the size of it, the towel is covering down his arms and his knees, and he crosses his arms and leads the both of you out of the steamy moist bathroom.

"Oh, hey. I wanted to ask you a question. Big enough to not be just over the phone, if ya know what I mean." He informs you after tossing you a black bra and panties for bed.

"Oh yeah? Shoot." 

"Um - Well, I - I saw this couple about our age. In the supermarket, I mean. They looked happy," He comes closer to you, his voice suddenly feeling like it's about to crack and throat about to be slit open. _Can I ask her now?_ He ponders. _Is it too early in our relationship? Wait, what?! Why am I THINKING that way. It's Y/N. And we've been dating for over two years._

"Yeah? Crazy, Dean. That's wonderful." You chuckle. 

"They had a kid in their arms. A baby boy." He interrupts your laughter. "Ring on both their fingers, too." He finishes shortly.

"I don't see any relevance to what you're saying, De -" You began, shaking your head. Dean saw a couple your age with kids. Something you used to want for a very long time but never talked about. 

"You ever wanted a little munchkin runnin' around the bunker?" He asks, and you could hear the smile on his face even if you weren't looking at him.

"Dean, would the child even be safe?" You ask, straining your voice in what's almost anger. How stupid can this boy get? 

His smile is gone as he looks up to see your frustrated one. "I'd protect him. You know that."

"Yeah, how? Make me take care of him all day long while you're on the road, just for you to get back and just take a nap with him?" 

"No! What? How could you possibly think that?" He raises his voice.

"Exactly." 

"Exactly, what?"

"This is _exactly_ how we'd act if we get a baby. We'd fight and be exhausted 24-7. Don't think for a minute that it'd work out. Just stop talking." You order, ripping the drawer open to fetch some leggings and then slam it back, almost catching Dean's thumb on the way.

"Ow!" He yelps, examining his thumb by raising it up near his face. "What was that for?" He whines. Sounding like a five year old child, you think, exactly what we'd hear all the time if we ever think getting a child is a good idea.

"I've ALWAYS wanted children, my entire family knows that. I know that. But after meeting you, and moving into this bunker, the monsters, the THINGS that are out in the dark.... How could any child be safe and how could Dean Winchester's child live a happy, NORMAL kid's life if he's constantly on lockdown?" You snap, shouting with your hands going in directions as if it'll change his mind and prove your point better.  
The tension in the room is enough to cut through glass, til Dean pukes up what he wants to say.

"I wanna make a baby with you. I wanna make a baby with you," he starts. "he'll have your smile, my eyes, your nose, your hair," He lists off, touching each part he says with his hands gently. "I'll protect him. I'll love him. I'll do anything," He's whispering now. "to make him feel happy and safe. I want to," He finishes, getting closer to your face and gives your nose and lips a slow, gentle peck. "will you let me?" 

"Maybe," you tease, trying to not allow the smile on your face creep up but it does without your control. Dean smiles along with you, his hands sliding lower down your body To stop at the backs of your thighs. One blink later, his hands are pressing down further into your legs, making you jolt up into his embrace. Legs wrapped around his torso, his hands still resting on your thighs, he begins to kiss you, deep and sensual. 

"Wait wait wait, woah woah; when I said make babies, did you think I meant now?" He asks, feigning disgust.

"Shut up," you shush him with your lips, closing any space between you and him. He backs up while still kissing you, which he's only pulled off with one other woman, and stops when he feels the bed on the back of his knees. Soon you both are on the bed, him on bottom, and you're making out and touching eachother everywhere.

"What about Sam?" You murmur, concerned over interruptions or having his poor baby brother hear.

"Told me he's out, borrowing the Impala for something. Just us, baby." He assures you, smiling from ear to ear and looking at you in the eye. He chins up to kiss you again, sloppy but perfect, to break it away a second after. "I'm thinking baby names. We want it to be a boy, so... What d'ya think?" His eyebrows wiggle playfully.

"How about we talk _after_ we both come."

"Sounds good. Can't wait," He smirks, wrapping his arms around your back while you rock your hips into his slowly, torturing the both of you, or more so Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> will be a part two coming up sometime about the cute Winchester babies reader made with Dean. Just domestic fluffiness with no intention of being too dramatic or have too much plot.


End file.
